


of creation

by determination



Series: Amaurotine Cidnero [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25635172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/determination/pseuds/determination
Summary: Inside the Bureau of the Architect an Attendant stands, distracted. The subject of his thoughts is rather singular: a particular debater from the Hall of Rhetoric.written for Cidnero week day 5. prompt: amaurotine shards
Relationships: Cid nan Garlond/Nero tol Scaeva
Series: Amaurotine Cidnero [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863445
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: Cidnero Week 2020





	of creation

**Author's Note:**

> amaurotine cid is named [prometheus](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1uHCneC7I29mu2DAaN5ZmoPNcKtuypu0P/view?usp=sharing), amaurotine nero is named [zelus](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1fcbJpIgRUmwqiBpMFoQDfuh3AOLKLTBD/view?usp=sharing). i spent a while trying to figure out what their names would be lol i hope you agree that it suits them;;  
> this idea came to me while replaying shadowbringers. i got the the aether current quest "debate and discourse" and i couldn't help thinking that if nero were an amaurotine, he'd be like the amaurotine firebrand from that quest. then i got to thinking that amaurotine cid would probably work for the bureau of the architect.

Prometheus stares out over the counter with glazed eyes. He’d been reading over registration papers for what feels like half the day, though it’s likely only been an hour or so. At some point, the words all blended together, and even when he shook his head to clear it, the problem did not alleviate itself. So he gazes out at nothing and finds himself… bored. 

He loves working for the Bureau, is happy beyond words knowing they trust him to sift through the registration applications and find which are worthy of consideration for the counsel, and which are dangerous or lack meaningful purpose. He loves learning about all the interesting, unique sorts of creations people wish to share with Amaurot.

But today, his mind wanders. He thinks of a particular firebrand from the Hall of Rhetoric who’d been bringing his debates to the Bureau as of late. So self-assured, so talkative… He’d argue his points to anyone who’d listen. And anyone who wouldn’t. He doesn’t want for passion, that much is certain. 

But it’s not like the Bureau would ever really consider his case. Prometheus doesn’t…  _ can’t _ understand the reason why he keeps trying.

Even so, there’s something… charming about it. Endearing. He can respect that the firebrand cares that much. Whether from a selfish desire to further his own goals, or a righteous urge to stand up for those who would not voice their own concerns. Or a simple wish to break the status quo.

Regardless, Prometheus finds him intriguing, to say the least. Annoying, as well, and perhaps a bit overbearing. But intriguing nonetheless.

What would  _ he  _ think of the creations described in the applications Prometheus is supposed to be perusing? Would he find the concepts compelling? How many would he approve for production? Likely far too many to be reasonable. After all, he seems to care little for practicality or public safety. His interests lie in the utilization of unique creativity with an emphasis on individuality. 

Of course the Bureau would never hire someone so ill-qualified. Such a person could not be trusted to determine what would benefit the greater good.

And yet… Prometheus still cannot stop himself from contemplating the firebrand’s thoughts and opinions. 

So preoccupied is he that it takes him a good, long moment to realize that something had manifested on the counter beside him. Its presence startles him when he notices. 

Absent-mindedly, he appears to have managed to create… a small automaton. The likeness is that of any Amaurotine, and Prometheus stares at it for a few seconds, perplexed, before he notices the specific characteristics: the way the robes have been altered to show its unique nature, the way its mask has been shifted to show more of the person’s face.

Of all the times for his magicks to trigger unbidden… 

Each Amaurotine has different levels of creation magicks, some stronger than others. And Prometheus, his magicks weigh far onto the side of that scale deemed “sometimes too strong to suppress.” When he loses focus, it can often lead to accidental creation. Thankfully, it has never produced anything that wasn’t harmless. 

That he would get so thoroughly distracted as to recreate the firebrand’s image...

Prometheus’ cheeks grow warm. The automaton simply looks up at him, occasionally raising a small hand to fiddle with the mask and smirk.

Botheration. He needs to put this out of his mind and do his job. 

“My, my, what do we have here?” The familiar voice almost makes Prometheus jump out of his robes. In his haste to grab the automaton and shove it under the counter, he nearly scatters the entire stack of registration forms. Please,  _ please _ don’t let him have seen the accidental creation. “An attendant shirking his duties? Surely that’s a punishable offense in the conformists’ handbook.”

Prometheus barely resists the urge to sigh in relief. From those words, he can gather he must be in the clear. The remarks are provocative, of course; but vague enough to infer the automaton had escaped notice. Had he seen it, he would have had no qualms openly teasing Prometheus. 

“Zelus,” he greets in as neutral a tone as he can muster. “Back again, I see.”

Zelus wears his usual smirk, the one Prometheus had shamefully had no trouble recreating. “Of course. You don’t really believe I’d give up, do you?”

Prometheus does sigh now, though it’s in exasperation. “No, but a man can dream.” He hesitates as he straightens the stack of applications, remembering his train of thought from before. What the firebrand’s opinions would be of the creation concepts contained within. 

“What?” Zelus asks, reading Prometheus’ expression with remarkable ease. “If you have something to say, then say it.”

Prometheus purses his lips. It’d be something of a breach of contract, to share unapproved concepts with a civilian outside the Bureau’s employ. Yet his curiosity gets the better of him. “... Convince me,” he says quietly and slides the stack of papers toward Zelus. “If you are as determined as you pride yourself, you should have no difficulty arguing as to why each and every of these applications should be approved for mass distribution.”

Zelus stares at Prometheus in awe. Prometheus can almost picture his wide eyes behind his mask, the twinkle they must have in the knowledge that Zelus himself had brought about such circumstances. Soon he’s grinning again, ear to ear. He looks so pleased that Prometheus finds his cheeks growing warm again. He’s thankful for the concealment of the mask upon his face.

“It would be my pleasure,” Zelus says, with so much pride that Prometheus begins to regret his decision. He might actually end up having to submit all of these to the council for comprehensive evaluation. 

He’d better start preparing his explanation now.


End file.
